At the End Of The Day
by Sophiethepegasus
Summary: In Enjolras' last moments, Enjolras' thoughts wander back to the broken girl. The girl who smiled. Marius' shadow. The girl who started the barricade.
1. At The End Of The Day

Enjolras stands before the Police, his eyes firm. "Wait." Says a voice coming from the stairs. Grantaire's smile greets them all. He's sober. Somehow, this is the one time Enjolras wishes Grantaire was drunk. What if he could've survived. 'Grantaire, no!' he hisses. 'Run.' Grantaire smiles.

'No. Kill me with him.' Grantaire walks around the National Guard. He stands next to Enjolras. He flashes him a smile and then faces them. 'Kill me with the French Revolution,' he repeats, his voice strains, louder.

Enjolras closes his mind to the fact that he's about to die. And he smiles. It seems right that the Captain should go down with his ship. And he thinks about something else, another moment. The moment before the Barricade fell to pieces.

...

The small figure ran along the streets, her arms close to her body. _She had to reach Marius._ The girl didn't know why she wanted to deliver the letter so badly. She loved Marius. But he didn't love her. Even so, the girl moved forward, her chocolate eyes watching the scene around her. She shivered. The rain dripped down her body, her hair, her clothes. The wind was light, but still, she shivered. The girl shivered, and she ran. And then she saw something that made her stop. It was the Rue de l'Homme-Arme'. Cosette's place. She was there. Marius' letter felt like it was slicing open her hands. It was meant for someone else. She didn't know why she was going to deliver the letter. She coughed, a short cough that rasped in her throat. Eponine stepped forward, her hand in a fist. And then she knocked. There was silence. A part of Eponine wanted to seize the opportunity to run back to Marius, get rid of the letter and lie. She knocked again though. And it was opened by an elderly gentleman. She recognised him slightly. _Why of course, _Eponine thought, _he's The Man In Yellow. _He smiled kindly at her. "Do you need something, boy?" Eponine wanted, in that moment to say _no _and flee, like a sparrow. Like a lark.

"I need to speak to Cosette." The Man In Yellow's eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"For what?"

"I just need to. Alone. Please. We won't leave this area, and then you'll get her back. Please, Monsieur, _please._" And Eponine's eyes were so worried, so scared.

The man sighed. "Wait here."

Eponine thought, in his absence. She thought and then she realised. She didn't just need to deliver a letter. She needed to talk to Cosette. And she was so god-damned scared.

Soon the door opened again, and Cosette was there. She was pretty now. She didn't look like her parent's drudgery maid. Their scape-goat. Cosette's eyes flickered upwards. "Hello," she smiled. A worried smile. _Of course. _Eponine thought for the second time in a few minutes. _She's worried for Marius. We can empathise on that. _

"Hello," replied Eponine.

"Is anything wrong?" Cosette asked. Her voice was so, so sweet.

"Close the door please." Cosette did as she requested. "Nothing's wrong, Mademoiselle Fauchelevent."

"Is it Marius?" Cosette's voice was a bare whisper.

Trembling, Eponine handed her the letter. It disgusted her and lured her at the same time. It disgusted her because it was Cosette's. It lured her because it was Marius'.

"He asked me to give it to you. He's on the Barricade you know." Cosette lowered her gaze.

"I know."

"I also needed to talk to you about something else." Cosette's eyes flashed in surprise. Cosette stepped closer to the street-urchin. The bourgeois and the street-rat. Eponine nearly laughed out loud from the irony.

"Yes?" Cosette asked. Now that she thought about it, she couldn't blame Marius for liking… _this. _Eponine's entire body stiffened.

"It's me. Eponine." For a moment there was fear. Eponine's entire body was coarse, waiting for the insults, the rubbing in, maybe even a blow. They never came.

"Eponine," Cosette repeated again. Her lips then curled into a smile. "Eponine. How long it's been."

"You aren't going to hit me? Aren't going to tell me about how low I've fallen, how _ironic, _everything's turned out? You aren't going to even slam the door?" Eponine's eyes were wide and she stared at the pretty girl before her.

Cosette smiled as she shook her head. "Wait here, again. My apologies, I forgot something."

Eponine wanted to run away. She was freezing and she wanted to run from here. She knew that she was getting punishment. But she didn't run. _Payback. Now I'm the scape-goat for my parents. The Irony never ends. _And then Cosette came back. There was no broom, nothing that could hurt her. Instead, there was a green jacket. "This is my father's," Cosette explained, "he never uses it anymore." And before Eponine could say another word, the jacket was around her. And it was warm. And it wasn't even uncomfortably hot. In Summer, she died from heat, in Winter she froze to death. And here she was. Alive.

"I need to apologize, Cosette." Eponine was astounded by those words.

Cosette shook her head. "You never hurt me. It was your parents' fault. Not yours, or Azelma's." Eponine stiffened at the mention of her sister.

"But-but I used to make fun of you. You were my scape-goat. Mama's toy."

"Yes. Your Mama's. Not yours. You were a child. You can't be blamed for your actions. But Eponine, if you want to make it up to me, _so badly, _you'll tell me your story. As for me, everything went up from there. Spent my life in a convent." Eponine hesitated. She'd probably be the object of all gossip. If she made it through the following days. What did she have to lose?

"My parents went bankrupt. That's when my torture started. Father beat me, Mama didn't try to stop him. Then he joined Patron-Minette, and many times I was injured, and hurt, and violated, and then, of course my stupid heart just _had _to fall for Marius Pontmercy, who was always too much of an airhead to think me more than a friend." _Too much information, Eponine. This is __**Cosette.**_ _Now you've got it coming. _

"I'm sorry, Eponine. Marius is your only friend. I'm so, so sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. For all those years under Mama and Papa's reign."

"There's no need." Eponine started to turn. "And Eponine. Once this is over and we come back to France like I know we will, our door is always open to you. Stay safe." And then Cosette went inside.

Eponine had a nice feeling inside her. Cosette didn't hate her! Even after her parents were slightly the reason for her death. Eponine ran, once more, through the streets. This time toward the barricade. The rain was heavier now but she didn't feel it too much. The jacket warmed her. The cold bit into her feet, even though they were in shoes. The soles were worn out and chill spread through her body. She gasped as she ran through a puddle. The barricades. Eponine ran towards them, and scrambled up the heap of furniture. "THERE'S A BOY CLIMBING THE BARRICADES!" Someone called out. Then there was a bang. Eponine stumbled and landed on a coffin, with her back against a barrel of gunpowder. _Just like my life is exploding right now. No more irony, _thought a voice in her head.

And then Marius was there. "What the hell are you doing, 'Ponine? Have you seen Cosette?"

Eponine coughed. "Yes, Monsieur Pontmercy. I talked with her. To apologize. We knew each other as children. _In fact, _we looked after her. A certain swapping of ranks has taken place." She attempted to smile. She failed.

Marius fitted his hand in the small of her back. His body tightened when he felt warmth. He took his hand away. Red coated his fingers. "'Ponine, you're bleeding." Eponine smiled.

"I've been bleeding for a long time Marius. You know, I can really see why you love Cosette and not me." She coughed, accidentally spraying Marius with blood.

"Eponine, I love you." Eponine's body was failing. She smiled with her eyes.

"N-not like that, Monsieur. You're in love with Cosette. Not me." Marius' eyes glazed over in shock.

"E-Eponine. What do you mean?"

"Goodbye Marius. Please survive. For Cosette. But one more thing. Remember how you were in my debt. When I close my eyes, please kiss me."

Eponine felt her life dripping away from her. She coughed again. Her eyes were now half-lidded. Eponine was tired. She glanced down at her jacket. It was soaked in crimson. Eponine smiled, and felt Marius close her eyes for her. Then she felt his lips against her forehead. And she smiled.

_..._

_Enjolras carried the limp figure of the broken boy. His head lolled and the cap from his head. A mane of dark brown curls escaped and flowed down towards the ground. This was the girl. The girl that was in love with Marius. His shadow. Her lips were a perfect cupid's bow. There was a green jacket around her, probably from a sympathetic bourgeois. Her face was losing colour quickly. The red dripped from the wound in her chest. It dribbled in all directions, The red was trickling down her neck. Her hair was matting together from the blood. This was the Jondrette girl. And then for a moment her eyes opened. They were staring. Chocolate brown. She smiled, dimples showing in her cheeks. And then her eyes closed again. Her arm dropped from her wound and hung by her side. _

_Enjolras lay her body against the cobblestones. Her skin was like porcelain. Her lips were perfect. The red made the fabric slightly brown. _

_That was the beginning of the barricade. And maybe a little bit the end of it. _

...

Enjolras smiles as he thinks of that girl. How her eyes opened. And the dimples in her cheeks. He faces the National Guard, his golden curls being ignited by the light. He has the flag tied around his waist. It's the same colour as his coat. He raises it slightly and smiles even wider. "Vive la France." It's loud above the gunshots below. He exchanges glances with his friend. The shots ring out. Then Enjolras falls.


	2. The Dead Live In Memories

Enjolras smiled and shared a glance with Grantaire. "Vive la France," he shouted and the shots rang out. Then he fainted. When he opened his eyes, he was dangling, the red flag around his waist.

_Why am I not dead yet? _He thought. _I should be dead. Just kill me. God, kill me! _

Then there was a ripping sound. He raised his head and saw the flag, slowly tearing. So that was how he was going to die. At least he wouldn't be left for the police. The flag tore completely and he was suspended, nearing closer and closer to the earth. And then he landed. There was a crack from his arm. He looked and realised he was on a bed of straw in a cart. Enjolras' head spun as he got up. _You need to run, idiot. _Enjolras got to his feet and ran. His vision numbed at the edges. Finally he tripped. An old woman was standing over him. "Get up." The woman's voice growled. She'd been at the rallies. She survived. Enjolras listened to her. He glanced down. Blood soaked dripped down his waistcoat. He followed the woman. She lead him through an alley. He followed her without hesitation. He didn't care what would happen. They went through a door. There was an old man standing there. "Sit down on the bed," the woman ordered.

He could hear the woman and man as they went into another room. "He's the leader."

"Yes."  
"Then we'd better fix him."

_No, _Enjolras wanted to scream. But he kept his mouth shut. So he let them do what they wanted.

...

They thought she was dead. Eponine was in the corpse heap. She pressed her fingers against her stomach. They came away red. Eponine tried to get to her feet but they failed her. Eponine started dragging herself across the cobblestones of Paris. The girl clawed at the earth. Her hands collapsed and she felt her chin fall against someone's leg. She raised her head and looked at the corpse. She screamed. Eponine screamed and clutched a little boy's body. "Gavroche!" she sobbed.

The little boy's staring eyes made her break down in tears. She screamed again, doubling over, pressing her hands to her stomach. Clutching a window-sill, she got to her feet. And somehow, she started to run. Her feet slipped and she stumbled but she got back up. As she ran out onto the streets she stopped. "Vive la France!" cried a voice. Enjolras. And then a shot rang out. A hand gripped her arm. She whirled around. She saw a man most called 'the Doctor,' because he helped the poor. "Come," his voice was warm.

It was three days later when Enjolras was finally free to leave. Enjolras groaned as he got to his feet. "Monsieur," came a voice belonging to the woman.

"I've arranged for you a flat in La Merge. It's still in Paris, so don't you worry, Monsieur."

Enjolras thanked her.

"Get ready, you're leaving today."

The physical pain had now died down incredibly in the last few days. He'd always been a fighter. But what he now felt was worse than anything he'd ever felt. It was the exhaustion of living. But still he managed to cry out.

"What?" he cried.

"They say that one of your friends survived. Marius, was it?"

There was hope, then? "Is he injured?"

"He's getting married this week, to some Cosette girl."

Enjolras sighed. He dismissed himself so he could get dressed. When he came out, he was wearing his red waistcoat, now scrubbed clean. The only thing missing was a ribbon, the symbol of the rebellion. Enjolras' hair was slightly untidy.

Soon he found himself in La Merge. He had a bare flat, besides a bed, a couch and a fireplace. What he'd always had. He had to stop for a minute because of the memories. He sighed. He had to get ready for a day on the streets. He looked around and saw a pile of jumpers on the couch. He slipped one on and fled the room.

...

Eponine was on her own again. She had nowhere to stay anymore. Though she hated it, she'd have to stay on the streets. In the midst of hope there was one thought that kept her on her feet. _Her family thought she was dead. _Eponine was still in her boy clothes. At least they were remotely comfortable.

Marius was alive, apparently. But she couldn't stay with him. Too many memories resided in that home.

The street urchin ran through the streets of Paris, her dark brown eyes gleaming. She was free from her parents unless somehow she managed to bump into them. No one recognized her as one of the dead bodies. Eponine was nearing the stores. She would maybe be able to beg for a loaf of bread. Eponine's dark locks hung, tangled about her face. The cold bit into her shape and she hugged her form. There was one thing she knew. She was still broken. She didn't think she'd ever heal. And then she stopped and she was staring and she was confused. There was a man. His hair was untidy. His coat was black. But she'd remember him anywhere. She felt the tears rising up inside her, and she clamped her hand against her mouth. Eponine let a muffled noise escape from her lips. She wiped her eyes and walked towards him.

She ran forward and bumped into the shape of a man. "Get your filthy hands off me, woman," he growled, but he kept on walking.

Eponine walked until she was in front of the man with the black coat. "Monsieur Enjolras," she didn't smile as she looked up at him. He was still as handsome as she remembered him. The only thing missing was the fury in his eye. That was gone. But Eponine could understand.

Enjolras' eyes widened in shock. "Who are you?" he asked. Eponine's body was still caked in mud. _Nothing unusual there. _

"Monsieur, I find it quite offensive not to remember your own men."

"It's a bit hard, Miss." Eponine felt her face growing red, and she stared up at Enjolras. And then she smiled. The smile was supposed to make him angry. When he smiled back, she let the smile fade.

"I'm Marius' shadow. Well, I can't think you'd remember me, can I. God knows the only ones who do are for the _wrong _reasons. Bourgeois boy."

She turned and felt fingers digging into her arm. "Did you say that you were one of my men? How did you survive?"

Eponine laughed bitterly. "Well, Monsieur. Has it ever occurred that _I don't know? _And by the way, you should remember me. Not only am I Eponine Thenardier, but I was the first to fall on your precious barricade."

Eponine reprimanded herself at that. She'd let her tongue get carried away. It was obvious that this Enjolras wasn't the one who'd spent months planning for freedom. She saw his eyes light in recognition. "The one who smiled after she died?"

"Oh really? What a pity I never noticed. God knows I only smile in the presence of somebody else who was certainly _not you._ Or should I say _smiled? _Anyway, I've got to go. I've got a family to return to._" _

Eponine felt tears rising up again so she turned and started walking away, her dark tendrils snaking down her back. She could still feel his eyes on her back. She'd never been good at conversations. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She turned and walked into the alleyway. Then she broke down and started crying. There was some straw here. Eponine whirled around. "Gavroche?! We're sleeping here tonight!" Her voice was loud. Too loud. And then Eponine remembered. _Gavroche doesn't exist, Eponine. No one exists anymore. _She tried to convince herself that it was a dream. That everyone was alive. Eponine's legs gave way from underneath her and her sobs echoed up and down the alley. She crawled to the straw and collapsed on top of it. When the noise of footsteps started coming after her, she stopped. Swallowing, she turned her head, expecting to see her father, or Montparnasse, or even worse, a ghost.

No, it was Enjolras.

"Eponine," his voice was broken and she felt horrible. "I heard you call Gavroche." Eponine turned her head again and her eyes were facing the wall ahead.

"Gavroche doesn't exist. No one exists anymore. I'm not a sister anymore. That's just it."

And she felt a hand on her shoulder. She yanked away. "Don't you touch me, Monsieur. I seem to hold the disease of the street-urchins."

"Eponine, your brother did exist. He existed until I shot him."

"_You _shot him?" Her voice was a scream. Her hands were clawed, as though she was about to rake them down that statuesque face.

"It was my revolution." She covered her face with her hands, protecting herself from the horrors of Paris behind two grime-covered hands. "How did you survive?"

She let out a choked sob. "I told you, I don't know." Her voice was a wail. A shaky, broken wail. "And who said I wanted to. I really wish I hadn't, because then I wouldn't have to worry about bumping into people I _really don't want to meet. _Then I wouldn't have to worry about _remembering. _But I keep going. I keep going for Gavroche. God knows what a scolding he'd give me up there. And I have to. Besides, the only way of dying for me is starvation. But I can last for a long time."

Enjolras' face was meanwhile, twisted in pain. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you'll have to remember it."

"Don't worry, Monsieur. I'll live. I remembered things before the barricade." She turned. There was a slight pang of guilt inside her chest. "Things much worse."

"I'm so sorry, Eponine. I killed so many people. My revolution killed your brother."

"It wasn't _your _revolution, Monsieur Enjolras. It was ours. It was _France's _revolution. Revolutions don't belong to one person. They belong to the country. Not you, Enjolras."

"I'm sorry."

"Trust me, Enjolras, we all are. We lost many people. We are all _so god-damned _tired of everyone _dying. _I crawled out of the freaking _corpse heap _and then I fell on top of my dead brother. It's a coincidence, actually. I didn't die in the revolution. No, I died a long time before that, Enjolras."

"Eponine."

"What?"

"I know you have nowhere to sleep. I have a couch."

And in that moment Eponine rationalised that she didn't mind what happened to anymore. So she sighed to hide that she was actually excited about the fact she was going to be _away _from her father. "Okay."


	3. The Tigers Come At Night

**Disclaimer: Les Miserables belongs to Victor Hugo. The only thing that belongs to me is the developing of this series. **

_Chapter 3_

_The Tigers Come At Night_

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, _thought Eponine. She was questioning her easy acceptance of Enjolras' offer. Enjolras turned his head to look beside him and the gamine's frail form was sturdy but ready to blow away at the lightest breeze. Her eyes were focused on a point in the distance, unsmiling. Rather like Enjolras, but firmer, stronger, fiercer. Eponine, out of habit maybe, wrapped her arms around herself. She found herself stroking her fingers through the thick knots in her hair. Enjolras turned and found himself being distracted by Eponine's eyelashes. Her irises flickered upwards. "Is there anything wrong, Monsieur?"

"No, there's nothing wrong, Madamoiselle. Is there anything wrong with you?" Her cheeks lit up with rage.

"How dare you?! And no, I'm just cold because somehow I lost my jacket."

...

Unbeknownst to her, Enjolras was thinking the same thing, but not for the same reasons. He only had a couch and bed. He'd let her choose of course. He sighed, resigning himself to the fate of a woman's tongue. Most women would choose the bed. _Eponine isn't 'most women', Enjolras. She dressed as a boy to go into battle, remember? _Enjolras turned the corner, and Eponine's head snapped up, hesitating for a moment before running a little closer. When they reached his flat (they'd gotten a few looks from the owner) Eponine's eyes flitted between the bed and couch. She outstretched her fingers and tested the couch. It was quite uncomfortable. Then she moved over to the bed. That was comfy. Eponine stood there. Sighing, she walked over to the couch and sat down. "This'll be my bed. Then I won't forget 'Roche." Tired half-lidded eyes followed Enjolras' form.

"There's some nightshirts you can use in that drawer beside the bed." When there was no response, Enjolras leaned closer to inspect her. She was already sleeping deeply.

...

Eponine's dream world isn't a good place. It's full of memories and bad people. It keeps in a cage of tigers. There are murderers and horrible men and vengeful prostitutes. There are people who didn't love her back. Eponine would often regret that sleep came so easily. When she slept, her body locked in place as if giant hands were keeping her still. Every few minutes she'd moan. When they were especially bad she might even strike out. If you examined her, like no one cared enough to do, you'd notice her nails digging into her palms, her face contorting in pain, sometimes even drawing blood. Eponine still dreamed of that and she would for a long time. You don't just forget. But that night Eponine dreamed of the night when her parents threw her brother onto the dirty streets of Paris. That was the beginning of her downward spiral. Soon the words got harsher, the hands got rougher, the minds snapped, insanity like a pool. She also dreamed of her brother running. Running through the streets, a bun tucked under his arm. Footsteps paced after him. Maybe it was her father. Maybe it was the police. _Run, little Gavroche. Don't let them get you. _Soon Eponine ran onto the street. She looked for Gavroche but he was gone. She looked down and saw her feet smaller than before. Eponine got it then. She had to help Gavroche. Eponine took off down the street, her body fast, her face contorted in determination. She held in the urge to laugh. Eponine turned the corner and found herself in a dead-end. Her breathing started getting harder, fearful. She felt her eyes glaze over. Her father came into view, smirking at her. Eponine ran at the wall, all laughter gone. She slammed against it, feeling it peeling the skin from her shoulder. She tried one more time and the bricks crumbled. She made to climb through the hole but, peeking her head through, she saw men closing in. The police. Eponine screamed. "Help me! Somebody freaking help me!" Eponine tried slamming into the other walls. She shrieked as she felt warmth start to bubble through her and flow down her arm. Burning pain shrieked in the ears of her system. She turned her head and looked at the gang, Patron-Minette and the police. Feeling the tears pooling down her face, she turned and ran at the police.

Eponine's body made a sort of spasm and she felt the contact of one of the police touching her arm. She opened her eyes and saw that it was still dark. Eponine wasn't totally scared of the dark. She was scared of what was in it. Of things like her family. Eponine sat up and looked around the room. The dark was crisp, like a cover. That was why she hated it. Eponine's ears started to tune in. A cry snapped her awake. She ran to her window, staring into the shadows. Then she realised it was coming from the sleeping figure in the bed. Enjolras. Eponine looked at the rise in the covers. It cried again and Eponine covered her ears. _It's fine, Eponine. You used to scream too, remember. And you've heard much worse things._ Eponine got up and walked over to Enjolras and considered waking him but decided not too. She might scare him, she decided. So she just stood there, listening to him cry out, again and again. Eponine held in a whimper. Eponine couldn't sleep. A book was on his bookstand. She could… read again? No, the light was too bad. Eponine was suddenly aware of the heat. She moved over to the window. She opened it and then stood on the sill. She bent her knees and then outstretched her legs over Paris. She inhaled the smell of the city and gripped the platform she rested on. Yes, that was better. A light breeze brushed against her. She watched as tendrils of gold started to curl through Paris. "Mademoiselle?" Enjolras' voice startled her and her fingers scraped against the brick.

"Monsieur?"

"Call me Enjolras."

"As long as you don't call me any formal names like _Mademoiselle, _okay." Eponine got to her feet again and clumsily let go of the sill. She put her hands on her hips and turned around. There had to be that terrifying moment when only one foot was over the city. But then she was facing him. She smirked and raised her eyebrows. Then she jumped into the room.

"Were you awake long, Eponine?" Enjolras' eyes were still tired. Eponine didn't like lying. So she sighed and nodded.

"Yes, I was, Mon-Enjolras. I've been up for an hour. You were crying out." Eponine bit the inside of her lip.

"I woke you up? I'm sorry, Eponine." Enjolras looked earnest. Eponine shook her head.

"I should thank you. I hate that place." She shuddered.

"What place?"

"Dreamland." She shrugged.

"Was it Gavroche?"  
"Sort of. Not dying, though. Before that. Way before that." She shuddered as she remembered that night when her father had stood in the doorway without her brother. Suddenly her shoulder stung and she brought her hand up to cover it.

Eponine walked around and back to the sofa. "There's still a few hours left," she sighed, dread creeping into her tone. She heard Enjolras depart.

...

The warm water gave Enjolras its own kind of chill. It would be so easy to get lost in the waves. Enjolras shook his head and slipped a towel around himself. A squeak from behind him startled Enjolras and he gripped the towel. His head whipped around and he saw Eponine, her clothes from yesterday clinging to her shape. She had the end of the top lifted up, to her ribs. They were so obvious, sharp. Eponine dropped the shirt bottom but he'd seen enough. Bruises coated them, blue and purple and green. And tiny scars dotted her frame. Eponine was what Marius had said. Like smoke. Her eyes were surprised for only a minute before glaring at him. Enjolras decided not to pursue the story yet. "God, Eponine." Eponine had just appeared there, silent, not a single disturbance. Enjolras manoeuvred around the ghost of a girl and walked out of the room. Eponine just stood there. "She's not there," he heard her mutter.

**Author's Note: Thank you my lovelies for reading my fan fiction, it means a lot to me. And to those who like my work GUESS WHAT? It's only 6:00 AM. Meaning, I might squeeze another chapter in today!**


	4. The End Of Pretending

_Chapter 4_

_The End Of Hiding (Eponine's Discovery)_

Eponine got into her old clothes like usual. Eponine appeared silently in the living room before Enjolras. She smirked as his eyes opened in surprise. "Do you _want _to scare me or something?" Eponine shrugged.

"I like spooking the bourgeois boys once in a while. I just wanted to let you know I'm going to town." Eponine turned on her heels and disappeared as silently as she had come. A lot like a ghost, Enjolras happened to think. A tendril of smoke escaping anyone's grasp. Eponine's huddled form was headed for Cosette's place. She knocked on the mahogany door. When there was no response, Eponine sighed and leaned against the door. Where could Marius be? Monsieur Gillenormand's maybe. Eponine had a way to go before she reached the doors. She knocked on them, and it was opened by a butler.

"What business do you have?" he asked, crinkling his nose at the sight of the street urchin.

"I am here to see Monsieur Pontmercy and Mademoiselle Fauchelevent."

"Let me see with them." Eponine knew that Marius would come down. He always did. Like he had done many times, Marius stood in the door-frame.

"Ponine!" Marius wrapped his arms around her and she around him. She felt a familiar stirring in her stomach but it was more like a last attempt for her heart to grasp its way out of oblivion.

"Marius," she smiled, because she had a friend here.

"Come in, 'Ponine. You want to speak to Cosette and I?"

"Yes, Marius, that's true."

He led the girl through the large house into the living room. Cosette was sitting there, putting heavy work into her knitting, as though to distract herself. Her bright blue eyes flicked up. "Eponine!" she smiled. She actually sounded eager to see Eponine. The gamine's eyes widened in surprise at the kindness in her tone. She hadn't gotten over her fear of kindness totally yet.

"Cosette! Where's your father?" Cosette's eyes darkened in pain.

"I don't know. He's gone away. And how are you, 'Ponine? Certainly you've looked after yourself since you survived the bullet."

_Of course she knows. _"Yes. I'm living with Enjolras presently."

"Enjolras survived? Marius will be so happy. Tell me how you survived now, Eponine."

"Okay. Um, I have no idea at all. I guess one dead Thenardier is enough."

"Was it Azelma?" Cosette lowered her gaze. Eponine felt tears rising up through her body.

"No. It was Gavroche. Anyway Cosette, I best be off. I don't want to be late home."

Cosette bid her farewell and Cosette was soon outside again. She was walking rather slowly, smelling the streets of Paris, of _gamin, _of everything. Without her knowing it, the inky black of night was falling over Paris by the time she neared Enjolras' home. She started humming a tune she remembered from her childhood. She used to sing it to Gavroche. Looking around, she realised that she was at a dead-end, and turned around. The monsters of the dark were brushed off and even though they crept around her, she kept on walking until she reached the mouth of the street. Sighing, she turned right. And a hand clamped around her throat and mouth. "Welcome back, Eponine," hissed the familiar drunken slur of her father. Eponine struggled, and felt the fingers squeezing harder. "Montparnasse, you get your whore back."

"Don't you think I've suffered enough-"

"Shut up, you dirty slut."

Montparnasse grabbed a handful of her dark hair and raised it above his head. Eponine was so skinny she dangled slightly on the end of her hair. Montparnasse dropped her and the ghost fell to her knees. She felt blood dribble down her forehead. A kick to the ribs made her stumble sideways. But she refused to scream, or shriek. Then they'd kill her. She felt hopeless as multiple kicks assaulted the puny girl's ribs and stomach. A hand wrapped around her wrist. Eponine dared to raise her head and eyed the pocket knife in Brujon's hands. She couldn't help screaming when the sharp blade traced over her thick skin. Some one slammed her in the mouth with his fist. Coughing, blood dribbled over her chin. Eponine staggered backwards and saw a shadowy form appear. He slammed his fists in their directions. Eponine got to her feet somehow, and glided over to Brujon, silently. She raised her own fist and struck his temple as fiercely as possible. He drooped to the ground. Seeing this, the rest of the Patron-Minette disappeared into the cover of darkness. "Mademoiselle, are you alright?" Eponine froze. It was Enjolras' voice. Gulping, she nodded.

"Yes." She could see his shape stiffen at her voice.

"Eponine. Are you okay?"

Eponine coughed and her hand clamped against her mouth to evade splattering Enjolras with blood.

"I think so. I'm not dead. I'll just get washed up at your place. Is that alright?"

"Of course. You're living there now, aren't you? Come on," she flinched as he reached for her hand. He pulled away and they walked side-by-side, Eponine's head low. She wondered if Enjolras would be horrified when they stepped into the light.

Enjolras opened the door for the wounded girl and she tried to cover her wounds. Seeing this, Enjolras assumed a commanding attitude that had seemed to be absent from his persona in the last days.

"Eponine, stand up, hands at your side. Let me look at you."

"And why?" Eponine asked, fumbling to obey his command but put her hands behind her back. Enjolras stepped closer and touched her ribs. Eponine winced.

…

"Those bloody idiots," Enjolras muttered as he examined her body. His gaze began at her feet and moved up her body. He raised his chin and looked her in the face. It caught him off guard when he saw the blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth. Enjolras looked her down again and saw that her hands were behind her. He reached forward and gently grabbed Eponine's elbow. He brought the arm around her body. He looked down and saw a red line across her wrist. He frowned. "I think I'll need to call the doctor. It might get infected."

Eponine opened her mouth to argue but then hung her head. "Okay."

He left the room and Eponine reached for a wet towel, wrapping it around her wrist. She watched as it slowly turned pink with blood. Eponine closed her eyes against the pain. The gamine snorted as a wave of agony rushed through her blood. Enjolras soon arrived with a woman. "My name's Musichetta," she chirped. "I was Joly and Bossuet's girl. I remember what to do."

Enjolras went into the next room, and Eponine was relieved. "Now, love, I'll need you to take off your clothes so I can see where you've been hurt."

Soon it was over and so was Eponine's embarrassment. Musichetta's eyes had filled with horror when she saw the girl's body. Every inch of her body was covered in blue, black, green, yellow, red. Eponine hung her head in shame and Musichetta rested an arm on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry you've put up with this for so long, love."

Eponine smiled up at her. "I'm sorry about Joly and Bossuet."

Musichetta lowered her head. "Thank you."

The _grisette _left then to talk to Enjolras. Eponine, tired, walked over and lied against the tough material of the couch. She closed her eyelids, and the darkness was bitter, tough. She heard the menacing laugh and was yanked away from her dreams by a rough fist. She realised then that she'd let out a small cry. Eponine felt relief at the fact that she'd been dragged out of the nightmares. And she was also _very _glad that Enjolras and Musichetta hadn't heard the noise from her lips. She realised that in the time she had closed her eyes, which had seemed so short, Musichetta had gone and Enjolras was again moaning in his sleep. Eponine's feet hit the cold ground. She walked around to Enjolras' bedside. She sat herself down into a chair by his bedside. Without knowing what she was doing, Eponine reached forward and stroked his hair lightly. His fist snapped up, grabbing her wrist. Eponine's eyes widened in fear. "What are you doing?" came from a voice in the darkness.

"I don't know," Eponine said and weaselled her hand from his fingers. She got up, but instead of sleeping against the couch, she rested her body on the floor. Eponine closed her eyes and braced herself for her dreamland.

…

Enjolras' hand gripped the girl's wrist. He opened his eyelids. In the dark her eyes were like stars, widened in surprise. She squeaked and yanked her hand from his grasp. Looking slightly distressed, Eponine lied down against the ground. Enjolras didn't know what she was doing but he didn't ask. Groaning, Enjolras turned over and lit a candle and grabbed a green-covered book. Enjolras listened as the fragile Eponine's breathing slowed. But about ten minutes later, Eponine's breathing sped up again. Enjolras jumped when he heard the girl cry out. Enjolras got to his feet and in two strides was over Eponine's tiny body. As if his presence triggered something that made her wake, her dark eyes stared up into his own blue ones.

"Did I wake you?" Enjolras asked.

"Yes. Thank you." Enjolras' eyebrows were taught.

"I can't keep waking you up, or you'll never get a decent night sleep."

"Do those exist anymore?"

"I don't know. You woke me up as well. I'll thank you for that as well. Were you… dreaming of the barricade?"

"No, Enjolras. I dream of Gavroche and Azelma." Eponine bit her lip and winced, and even though it was tiny, Enjolras knew that her past was a very special thing to be let into and was not to be told to anyone else.


	5. A Family Reunion

_Chapter 5_

_A Family Reunion_

A shaky, ragged cry escaped Enjolras' lips. He felt a rush of gratitude for being sucked out of the dream vortex. He turned his head and saw Eponine, holding his rough hand in her own. He could sense the grating flesh where her hand had been scarred. His eyes flashed up to her face. Her features were sharpened by the long shadows of the dark. Enjolras' eyes ran down her face. Her hair was so dark it looked like it wasn't there. Her lips were darker, her skin was paler, and the darkness provided an illusion of beauty. Eponine's eyes opened, sensing the gaze of the man in the bed. She yanked her hand away from his and got up from the chair she had grabbed from his desk.

Enjolras didn't say anything when she made breakfast for him, in fact she didn't talk at all until the sun was a golden, orange ball on the horizon. The sky was already blue, the kind that artists dreamed about. There was a dusting of white above the rooftops of Paris, patches of clouds.

"Have you thought about what you want to do with your life?" Eponine asked him. Her eyes were dreamy as if focused on a place entirely her own. Maybe she was asking herself more than him.

"I can't say I have," Enjolras muttered, cleaning the last mouthful of his porridge.

"I know that I won't be a cook or doctor because those aren't available to me." Enjolras felt an involuntary pang of grief so strong it took every ounce of self-control not to buckle over in tears and sobbing. But Eponine was there.

"Joly was going to be a doctor," he muttered.

Eponine smiled sadly. "Yes he was. He was going to be a good one too. He was the only one who knew that I wasn't a gent."

"He knew?" Enjolras asked and the grief ebbed away, replaced by surprise.

"One time I was talking to him and my cap fell off. No big deal."

"No big deal? You dressed up as a man to save Marius _freaking _Pontmercy!"

"Don't you talk about him that way." Eponine's voice rose and hardened, the dreaminess lost.

"Why? Do you _still _obsess over someone who is infatuated with _someone else?_"

Eponine flinched, but was surprised that it wasn't that much of a pain as a memory.

"Enjolras, why are you bringing Marius up? He doesn't matter. We don't know if he's dead or alive, and the only reason I _care _is because he made me a god-damn messenger pigeon to a _freaking _bourgeois. Not to mention he was the first person who didn't treat me like I was the embodiment of the devil. Now back to the subject."

Eponine's voice was back to normal except for the icy tone in her voice. Eponine was a little abashed that he had brought up the subject of Marius at that time of morning. "I was thinking I could do something to get a bit of money. I refuse to work in a factory. There will be too much of a chance to meet people I don't want to meet."

Enjolras knew the moment she said it that she was referring to her attackers. "I agree," he said, his eyes focusing on her facial expressions.

"I think I could do something at home like… tutor?"

"Tutor?!" Enjolras' eyes widened in extreme surprise.

"Yes, Enjolras, I know how to read and write. I, for one, was an extremely fast learner in my youth and I used to read to Gavroche, when Mamman didn't feed him. When he was old enough I taught him and Azelma to read. I also know how to write and I used to write stories and plays for them to act out." Her face now had the dreamy expression back. She rested her head in her cupped hand. A small knowing smile played with the corners of her lips.

"That's… interesting." Enjolras muttered but he actually was interested in what she had said about her siblings.

"And maybe I could write stories. A story is my namesake, after all." She threw a smirk at Enjolras.

"I suppose. But you don't make much money from being a novelist."

"It's only a small wage I'm asking for teaching children to read and write. One sou a week. And I'll write under a pseudonym."

Enjolras chuckled. "You're peculiar, 'Ponine."

"So are you, bourgeois boy," the girl spat back but she couldn't hide the wave of amusement washing over her face, and her lips crinkled into a smile.

...

Eponine managed to convince Enjolras to let her get out and about. She promised not to go in alleys, and to stay in the crowd. As she reached for her wallet she felt a small force knocking her off her feet. She looked up and saw a little boy. As he turned she gripped his skinny wrist. "Sorry, Mademoiselle, I forgot to apologize."

"Give it back," Eponine commanded, her eyes darker and sterner.

The boy hung his head and handed her the wallet. Then his eyes took on a look of fear, as if Eponine was a ghost. "'Ponine!" he cried.

"Jacques," she muttered, the name of her brother filling her with surprise. Gavroche had told them about her, and she'd helped her mother give birth to him and his younger brother, Peter.

She hoisted him up onto his own two legs. "I'm going to give you two sous, one for you and one for Peter. I need you to come find me with Peter in an hour by the seine," she told him, her eyes deadly serious.

Jacques nodded and took the two coins she handed to him. She wasn't sure if her brother would come, but she was going to teach them to read, or at least start. Eponine rushed back to her and Enjolras' flat and grabbed two thin books before once again rushing out of the door.


	6. Letters in Literature

_Chapter 6_

_Letters In Literature_

Eponine sat beside her brothers, holding the books open. "This is the alphabet," she told Jacques and Peter. Peter seemed to be bored out of his mind, but Jacques' eyes watched Eponine intently. "What letter is this?" she asked, pointing at a capital A.

"Um, dee?" guessed Jacques. His finger traced the shape.

"A. This is B, and that's C."

"Eponine?" he asked, his head of dirty blonde curls tilting.

"Yes?"

"How do you write my name?" his eyes watched her.

She took a piece of charcoal from her pocket and it stained her fingers. In the margins of the book, she wrote _Jacques and Peter. _

"That's how you spell my name?" Peter asked, pointing at the last word.

"Yes. That's a P and an E and a T and another E and an R."

Peter grabbed the charcoal and copied the letters.

"What's that?" Jacques asked, pointing at the _and._

"It's and. It joins two words together, see? Jacques _and _Peter."

"I see," the boy who looked like Gavroche chirped up, his brown eyes shining. "What about Eponine?"

"That's tricky, Jacques. How do you think?"

Jacques bit his lip and wrote _Eponeen, _at the top of the page. Eponine smiled and wrote her name next to it. She told the boys the letters and let them copy it. "At least know how to write your names, okay boys, even if you're not going to come next week."

Eponine gathered the books that were a bit soggy from the damp grass. She slipped through the doors of the flat she shared with Enjolras and gave him a satisfied smile. "How's your arm?" she asked.

"It's better," he muttered.

Eponine, some instinct taking over her, strode over and tipped his chin up, looking him in the eye. The deep blue eyes were tired but at least he was washed. "We need to get you out," she muttered.

"I go to the market, Eponine."

"And I go to my favourite places. Surely you can have some fun."

She pulled him up. "Don't pretend you don't care," she smirked.

They walked. They didn't go anywhere special. Just walked.

She made sure no body part brushed and kept him at arm's leg. A red coat was pulled around her body, much too small, but she kept it on. Soon she noticed them descending into the slums. "I suppose you don't want to see any poor people," she muttered and turned around. Instead she pulled him into the bourgeois area of Paris. There were pretty dresses and fine suits. People laughed and were loud enough to not hear the gamin and gamine wailing, sobs of death and sorrow. "Maybe we'll even see your parents or something." She shrugged. "You haven't seen them in a while, I guess."

"I didn't exactly plan on meeting them, Eponine."

"No one's saying we _will _meet them. It feels so strange not having a wallet in my hands."

Enjolras was confused by the switching of subjects but he didn't exactly want to open up about his past. Maybe she thought he would ask her about her parents. He didn't know that her attacker was her father.

"If you're going to steal anything, steal from me." It was only a few minutes later that they were on the Seine bridge.

"I've heard that Inspector Javert threw him into the water," she muttered. Her hand started to shake slightly from the cold. "Miss?" asked a little gamine who tugged on her coat. Her hair might've been blonde if she'd been taken to the Bourgeois homes. Her body was nothing but skin and bones. Her eyes were nothing but shadow.

Before she knew what she was doing it, she was shrugging off her coat and wrapping it around the gamine. "Thank you, Miss." And she scampered off.

The cold now blew roughly against her shoulders, but she didn't shiver, she didn't bow, because she was Eponine and her scars came from metal not from wind. Eponine's blood rushed to her cheeks as the wind brushed past her narrow face.

"You're cold."

"No I'm not."

"Come on, we're going home," Enjolras muttered.

That night, as he was getting into bed, Eponine got up and growled. "Why do you just brush everyone off? It gets annoying, you know?"

Enjolras glared and stood upright. "Why do _you _never tell about your past? Why do _you _trust your life in Marius Pontmercy?"

Eponine felt rage rush to her cheeks, pressing against her system like a knife. No, a knife held over a fireplace until it glowed orange. An exasperated cry left her lips. And she wanted to make Enjolras angry. And then she smiled at him, her brown eyes gleaming.

….

Enjolras anticipated her next move. She might throw a pillow at him, since she was Eponine. Or she might just escape through the window. But he wasn't expecting it when Eponine walked up to him, looked him straight in the eye and crushed her lips against his. It was maybe two or three seconds. She pulled away and smirked at him in satisfaction. "So much for Marius Pontmercy," she grinned, her voice dripping in sarcastic venom.

That night when he was in bed he cursed her, because he couldn't sleep. The memory of her lips against his tugged at his conscious, never letting go from the threads of his anger-fuelled mind. His fingers curled into his palms. He'd have to think of revenge. For tonight, though, Eponine was safe. He couldn't help the chuckle escaping from his lips.


	7. Electricity

_Chapter 7_

_Electricity _

Eponine sat on the edge of the couch. Enjolras would make a moaning noise every few minutes. She was resisting the urge to just lie beside him. She was still tired. Eponine got to her feet and sat on the bed beside him. Taking his hand in her own, she watched his figure in the poor light. Holding his hand, his cries smoothed. Eponine rested against the pillow, and closed her eyes, allowing sleep to come.

Her labored breathing hitched as the dreams started to come. A moan left her lips. She dreamt of Gavroche and Azelma. Azelma. How many ways did she watch them die? Every way was more horrible than the last. Her eyelashes clamped in fear.

...

Enjolras heard small cries from the bed beside him. Once again Eponine's fingers curled around his. They squeezed, and a moan left her, followed by a cry, where she arched her body off the bed. She was at her weakest, he knew. Artist fingers crept up her arm, and her breaths shook. Her fingernails pressed into the flesh of his hand, and blood started to flow. "Shit."

Eponine's eyes flashed open and stared into the dark. Enjolras slumped by her side. Eponine let go of his hand and turned over. Soon he realized her body was shaking. Enjolras' hands wrapped around her waist, and pulled her to him. Eponine's stomach curled. She knew she was caught when he could notice the shimmering streaks on her cheeks. Enjolras' heat soaked through the flannel nightshirt.

Eponine was in one of those special moments of weakness. Wrapping her arms around him, so cold they were. Enjolras' lips met her own in a stunning moment of electricity. Eponine's tongue slid through her lips, dampening the chapped skin. Her teeth pressed down on his bottom lip, trapping him. Eponine pulled back, dark eyes shining. "Even?"

Enjolras grinned. "Half."

...

Eponine stiffened. "What do you mean?" Her voice was cold again. Her weakness was gone. Enjolras' hand still held hers and she knew he could feel the way her hand froze.

"Eponine, watch your back. You still owe me for that kiss."

Eponine glanced at him. "What, this one?" she planted her lips against the corner of his lips.

"Double time," he teased.

Eponine shook her head, smiling. Her other hand reached to cover his. And electric currents coursed through his veins. They jumped back. "What the Hell?" she asked, looking at her hand closely.

"I have no freaking idea what that was, Eponine."

"'Course you don't. The only thing you know how to do _well _is speeches and chivalry and revolutioning. And kissing. Okay, hell, you're perfect."

"No one's perfect."

Eponine groaned. "You're not very good with compliments, Enjolras."

"Really, now? Okay, you may not be a princess with golden locks and blue eyes, but you are a creature of the night, daughter of the moon and earth. You are beautiful, and real. You're not an angel, you're the world."

Eponine smiled. "Well, you aren't terrible."

She slid off the bed, retreating down the hall to the bathroom. And as she was about to close the door, Enjolras had to refrain from saying, '_Stay.'_

He looked at his hands and he wouldn't have been surprised if his hands were covered in scales. He felt strange, and not like himself at all. "What on earth?" he muttered.

...

Eponine's feet moved along like lightning. _MariusMariusMarius. _She had to remind herself that she cared for him. Because that-that electricity had scared her. Marius had been sweet but that had felt like lightning, coursing through her veins like quicksilver. She had taken one of Enjolras' tops, because she wanted to look clean for Marius. She needed to be reminded. The butler recognized her but didn't bow. She was a guest, but she was only a few weeks, nay, two at most, from a gamine.

Marius was alone. "'Ponine! Cosette's at the market."

Eponine looked at him, hoping, _praying, _to feel that same love she used to have, that need, that pain at the mention of Cosette, anything was fine.

But there was nothing there. "Hello, Marius." She smiled widely, but all she felt was confusion. "Hello, I just came here because Enjol- I mean, I wanted to see you and Cosette you know and Enj- I mean, yeah."

Eponine felt herself wanting to crawl under a rock and live the rest of her days there. A red tinge came to her cheeks and ears. Her dark hair was in deep contrast with her cheeks.

"Did you say Enjolras?"

Eponine nodded. "Don't talk about it."

"Okay." She heard the cheekiness in his voice.

The sound of a door shutting alerted Marius and a lovesick, innocent smile came on his face as his wife glided through. "Eponine!" she chirped.

"Hello, Cosette."

Marius glanced at Eponine. "I think I'll let you talk in peace."

_Yes! No. Don't do that, don't leave me. _Of course he did leave the room.

Eponine and Cosette watched each other. "I heard you mention Enjolras. How is he?"

"Cosette, what do I do?" she moaned, slumping against the couch.

Cosette smiled. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm not sure but I think- I think I'm falling in love and I am _scared. _Every time I'm in love it ends in pain."

Cosette smiled. "That's amazing."

"And there's something else."

"What?" Cosette watched her with curiosity.

"I kissed him in revenge the other day. And this morning I kissed him in bed and-"

"You _what?" _

"I kissed him. And he kissed me back in revenge and- and it was like lightning. I thought it was just once. But then his hand covered mine and it happened _again." _

Cosette gasped. "Eponine, it's like what I read in novels. There's always what's described as _electricity _in just being around them. And you actually feel it physically or emotionally."

"I think- a little bit of both."

A knock ran through the foundations of the house. Eponine turned and ran to the door, peeking into the hallway. A head of golden curls made her breath hitch.

"What the hell? Sorry, Cosette, but what on Earth is Enjolras doing here?"

"He's here?" Cosette asked, clambering out of her chair and darting to the door, peeking through like children. Eponine turned and shooed Cosette to the chair. A giggle left her body. Soon they doubled over in laughter. Cosette, surprisingly, was louder than Eponine, unfeminine.

The sound of Marius' joy was even more infectious. Enjolras stood in the doorframe, his face marble. "What's wrong?" Eponine asked.

"I'm not letting you walk home by yourself. Remember what happened last time?"

Eponine's brow creased into a frown at the memory. "I'm fine, Enjolras." Eponine sighed and patted the place next to her on the couch. Enjolras sat down and looked at Cosette.

"Eponine had an unfortunate run-in last time." Eponine looked at him, and, without the dirt-coated face, without the greasy hair, she was beautiful.

"Was it your- Monsieur Thenardier?" Eponine stiffened, and coldness started to emanate like an aura.

"The Patron-Minette? Yes. If it was any usual day, and I wasn't recovering from a bullet-wound, I would've taken my dagger with me. I did deal with those asses on more than one occasion."

Enjolras felt a shameful pleasure at seeing Cosette's shock at Eponine's language. Cosette cleared her throat. "Okay then. I'll let you be on your way."

Enjolras took Eponine's hand and a spark was almost visible. Eponine yanked her hand away. "Why does that keep _happening?"_

"Eponine," Enjolras muttered and took her hand again.

And then Eponine stood up on tip-toe, right there in front of Cosette and kissed his cheek. "You don't fool me, bourgeois boy."


	8. They're Not Invisible, After All

_Chapter 8_

_They're Not Invisible, After All_

"Eponine, why did you do that?" he asked, once they were outside. Eponine's eyes still gleamed with the foxlike adrenaline that had made her kiss him. But he was interrupted by her laughter, loud but beautiful. Eponine let a hand curl around his sleeve. Enjolras started walking the way to their home. "Eponine?"

"Sorry," she then whispered. Eponine walked faster to catch up to him. "I did it because I wanted to have fun. Anything wrong with that?"

"You did it in front of Madame Pon-"

"Cosette. Well, that's what I've always known her as."

Enjolras noticed that she winced. "Do you like her?"

"Kind of. I have to. She deserves it."

"Deserves it?"

"I was really mean to her when she was younger. Before my- Madame and Monsieur Thenardier became dickheads."

Enjolras fidgeted at the curse. Eponine smirked at him and started leading him. Running. Enjolras started to jog to catch up to her. Eponine laughed. "Do you like gardens?"

"I suppose," muttered Enjolras.

She led him until she arrived at a place that had been boarded up. Inhaling the scent she walked around and pushed a door. It was so much more beautiful than the Pontmercy garden. The weeds had never been trimmed. Eponine got to her knees and felt her fingers closing around the stems of the weeds. She yanked them out of the earth. "Eponine?"

Enjolras sat down next to Eponine. Gasping she got to her feet and ran to a small well. She lowered the pail and it filled with water. She grabbed it and took it to the flowers, tipping water.

Something collided with her shoulder. There was Enjolras, on a bare patch of dirt, holding a handful of soil. He hurled it at her and she ducked in time for it to slam into her forehead. "Follow me, I've got a better place."

They were soon at the banks of the Seine. Enjolras reached down and grabbed some mud. Eponine squealed. She then proceeded to give him payback. "It's payback time, Eponine."

Soon they were both covered in mud, acting like schoolchildren. Two witnesses were walking along that road. One of them turned their head at the noise of squealing and screaming. Somehow she didn't grasp the laughter and in a panic, looked for the person in trouble. She then saw a boy covered in mud. The woman took off her shoes and started to walk to them so she could see the woman being harassed. She heard the word _payback _and _Eponine_ and came to the conclusion that the woman was fighting back. She then noticed the girl, dark-haired and dark-eyed, her face turned upwards in child-like joy. Suddenly the girl slipped.

The boy-or man- rushed over to her and wrapped his arms around her. "You okay?" The woman heard him say. The girl threw back her head, laughing. But then, trying to get back to her feet, she slipped further and was down to her thighs in water. "Eponine!"

Eponine stared at the water. "Damn. Joly would be so mad." At the man's face twisting in grief, she then said sorry. "I hope I don't get a chill. But I've got a strong immune system. Had to have one, living on the streets and all."

Enjolras then lifted her. "Gavroche-"

"Gavroche died. A lot of people died. That's just how things work. He will be forgotten. Those stupid National Guardsmen. They shot a child. My brother. Now let's switch to a happier subject."

"You've got mud on your face," Enjolras pointed out. He licked his finger and rubbed it against her forehead. Tipping her head, he pressed his lips to hers. Eponine didn't fight, try to give him payback. She just felt the warmth as his chest pressed into hers.

The other woman, who had rushed down to join her friend, gasped at the sight of the two. It was generally scandalous to kiss in public. And she couldn't believe a girl like that would fall for a man. He was certainly handsome. As if taking the words from her head, the girl then muttered. "Why would you kiss a street rat like me?"

"Eponine. You may have lived on the street, but I fought for you. I almost died for your people. You are brave, and strong."

It was only then- only then, that the girl, who had been so wrapped up in Enjolras, noticed the spectators. "Enjolras. People are watching," she hissed.

Enjolras turned his head, and his eyes turned stony. "Hello, Madame's. I assume you normally intrude on two people's privacy?"

"Sorry, I heard the Mademoiselle scream."

"Thank you for caring." Eponine couldn't help noticing that Enjolras' arm hand wrapped around her waist. Sure enough, his arm was still able to touch his body, and hugged her closely.

"I am Madamoiselle Le Carant. This is Madame Se Cure', my sister." The first one who had rushed down gestured to the woman at her side.

Eponine smiled. "I am Eponine Jon-Thenard. Eponine Jon-Thenard, yeah." She curtsied.

"I am Enjolras. We share a flat, me and Eponine."

A small smirk worked its way onto Eponine's features.

"Indeed, a woman and a man unmarried. Who would've thought?"

Eponine laughed. "And a gamine, as well."

"You're a _gamine_? My parents never let me talk to them, but I always wanted to help them."

"I had a brother as well. He died in the recent rebellion."

"Oh, darling, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine."

Enjolras suddenly spoke up. "Well, Eponine, let's be getting home."

And his payback was another kiss. The two women who had watched them shook their heads in laughter.


	9. A Taste Of Heaven

_Chapter 9_

_A Taste Of Heaven_

Winter came round and with it came snow. Her brothers became accomplished readers. Eponine's dreams had slowed as well as Enjolras'.

But Enjolras still hadn't let the kisses go. He held grudges for a long time. Though Eponine had forgotten all about revenge plans, her spare time being poured over.

Small things slipped into her daily life, so subtle she didn't notice. Enjolras watched her with a dazed gleam in his eye. When he saw her, he'd smile. Of course she thought this was from being alone with the ghosts so much.

He often took her to the market, despite her complaints (and she often managed to separate from the poor bourgeois, leaving him frantically looking for her dark hair), and he started wrapping her hand in his own.

People would smile at them, perhaps thinking them newlyweds. Eponine had a hint, but not much more than that.

One night, in the dead of winter, Enjolras' body was chilled to the bone, despite his arms surrounding himself. Groaning, he got to his feet and walked over to where Eponine slept still. He found it hard to believe that she wasn't cold. And she was.

Enjolras slipped his arms underneath her, and picked her up. Suddenly he remembered her, hair matted with blood, eyes closed softly, her lips turned upwards.

For a moment he tensed, but then carried her over to the bed and lay her down. He walked around to his side and got back in- _Merde! _Her lack of body-heat was astounding.

He kept his eyes closed despite his mind's resistance to sleep, despite the wailing outside the window that reminded him so much of ghosts.

* * *

"Combeferre…Look out! Joly! Courfeyrac!"

"Shhh," whispered a small voice, creeping up from the depths, a girl's voice that couldn't be more than nineteen.

"Huh?"

"Can't see me? I'm right in front of you."

"No, I can't! Wait…Eponine!"

"Congratulations, Apollo, you won."

The old Enjolras looked around in puzzlement, and then saw a small shape in the back of the room. It tilted its head and light spilled onto its face. Yes, there was Eponine.

He smiled, but in that moment, Combeferre fell. The sound of his friend's body alerted Enjolras who shut his eyes. In a moment of distraction he had missed his friend's death.

* * *

"Enjolras?" whispered real Eponine, her eyes lighthouses in the dark.

In an instinctual moment, he grabbed for her hand. "Eponine," he whispered worriedly.

"What's wrong?" she groaned, her head falling back against the pillow.

"Eponine, I-I can't remember."

"Can't remember what?" frowned the girl.

"I can't remember the Barricade. I can't remember what happened next. I only just realized."

Eponine smiled softly. "Is that a good thing?"

"I don't know." He gripped her hand tightly. Something felt so desperately _odd. _

* * *

Eponine ran her thumb over the backs of his palms, back and forth, back and forth.

Totally unexpected, Enjolras' eyes relaxed and Eponine watched him fall asleep. There was a deep-set chill inside Eponine, who had long forgotten the warmth of a blanket.  
But she watched Enjolras' body shiver, and she inched closer, so her miniscule heat radiated at least partly onto him.

So she herself was about to drift off when she felt Enjolras shift so his arm rested across her.

She smiled as she slept, leaning into his touch.

Her heat was reassuring to Enjolras, a living being who wouldn't hesitate to be held. As the light started to enter the room he groaned quietly, so as to not wake Eponine. Her shoulder was luminescent in the rays of the sun and Enjolras ran his finger along the edge of her shoulder.

Eponine flinched and then leaned into his touch. A ragged breath left her lips. Enjolras, who felt the urge to test the waters, kissed the place where his fingers had trailed.  
Eponine's entire body stiffened, and Enjolras stilled. He realized she was watching him.

Smirking, he leant in to kiss the corner of her mouth.

She moaned, her head tipping backwards. Enjolras now trailed his lips, roaming, teasing the tender skin of her breast with his teeth. Eponine squirmed, her hips bucking upwards.

He paused for a moment, and watching her, there were no longer two light houses but a million, and they were all guiding him home.

For the first time he noticed how beautiful she was. The dimple in her chin, and the dimples in her cheeks. The way her lips twisted upwards with the secrets of Paris hidden within them. Her dark hair glowed, almost.

He searched eyes, the question for permission in his eyes. Eponine smiled, and nodded.

Their skin rubbed together in their passion. He kept his eyes open, so as to watch Eponine clamp her eyes shut.

Afterwards, they lay on their side, her fingers combing through his hair, watching as he kept his eyes trained on hers, but it wasn't lust, she wasn't sure what it was.

It didn't look as though Enjolras had committed a sin in the world, for in that moment his blue eyes held a deep innocence, a moment of happiness.

Eponine smiled to think that she'd given him this.

Then there was a knock on the door.

Enjolras groaned; surely it was too early. And why would someone call on them, anyway?

He got out of bed, feeling the gaze of Eponine on his naked body as he dressed. Casting her a sorry glance, he slipped down the stairs.

He opened the door and felt the strange man's eyes taking in his unkempt hair.

"Are you Etienne Enjolras?"

He froze. He hadn't used his real name when talking to anyone. And the use of his first name was off. No one who wanted to cause him harm would know it.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Yes. Yes, I am Etienne Enjolras."


End file.
